


Visitation

by TheOCDDI (TooHotchInTheHottub)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:57:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6655246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooHotchInTheHottub/pseuds/TheOCDDI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester has a visitor.</p>
<p>(That's all I can say without giving some stuff away.)</p>
<p>A gift for a fabulous friend of mine, who came up with the prompt.<br/>(You know who you are.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visitation

 

 

 

Dean's eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the dim light. His room was still, the chill of the outside air bit at his bare shoulders. Dean wasn't unaccustomed to being woken in the night, but there was no urgency here; no danger. 

  
He sat up groggily, the covers slipping down his bare torso and pooling at his hips. He rubbed at his eyes and looked around slowly. That's when he saw him.   
   
Castiel was standing in the doorway, the light from the storm on the other side of thewindow illuminating him like a flashbulb. He stood as he always did, shoulders hunched, his hands by his side. He wore that trench coat – the one Dean had carried with him everywhere after one time Castiel had died - it might not have been the first time Dean had lost Castiel, the day he walked into that reservoir, but it was the first time that he felt that  _somethingelse_  about him .   
   
The angel ground out a stony "Dean". His eyes were liquid fire, blue and deep and there was something in them. Something Dean could never quite identify. Something ancient but oh so new.   
   
It occurred to Dean that the man slowly approaching his bed was positively elemental. His stone voice and earthy laugh,  that hair that played in the wind. The steel will and fiery loyalty. It was little wonder that Castiel had created some of the world.  Dean thought that he must have been responsible for the most incredible vistas. He wanted to ask him, to know what Castiel considered his best achievement, the most beautiful thing he ever made. 

Instead, with unconvincing bravado, he said, "Cas. Any reason you're lurking around my room. It's a little Twilight, don't you think?" 

Castiel didn't answer. He merely sat on the side of Dean's bed, silently watching him. 

A clap of thunder and a bright flash illuminated the scene. Cas's tie was crooked, halfway to undone. The top two buttons were open. Dean could see a fluttering at the base of Castiel's slender neck. He licked his lips and was about to say something. He wasn't sure what exactly, but he felt he had to say something, anything, right now. 

Outside, in the distance within the cacophony of the storm, Dean thought he heard someone calling his name. 

"Did you hear that?" He asked, tilting his head toward the window. His eyes peering out into the grey of the night.  

Cold fingers coaxed his gaze back when Castiel ran his fingers down Dean's cheekbone. 

"I have wondered what it would be like to kiss you, Dean." Castiel said with earnest gruffness. 

  
Dean forgot all about the outside. 

"You've been kissed, Cas." 

"I have, but not by you." 

Those fingers on his face were more insistent, pressing a little harder into his skin. Castiel was closer and all at once Dean realised exactly what he wanted, and knew he was about to get it. 

Castiel kept his eyes open while his lips met Dean's. Soft and deliberate, the kiss stalled at the chaste stage while both men contemplated each other. Dean was strangely delighted to discover that Castiel's lips were a little dry – just like he'd always imagined. Castiel was pleasantly surprised that Dean tasted like the sharp sting of mint toothpaste and not the waxy grease of yesterday's cheeseburger. 

Castiel's eyes slid shut, his tongue testing the dimensions of Dean's mouth. The points of Dean's canines were as sharp as Castiel had hoped. He ran the tip of his tongue over them with a certain level of glee, delighting in the feel of it. 

Dean was lost in the feel of the moment, he didn't notice that Castiel had pushed him onto his back until the weight of the angel's body became more obvious. His bare chest was covered by the untidy clothes of the man above him. That tie was snaking from between them, and rested over Dean's right shoulder. Castiel's hands moved with a studied firmness over Dean's sides. The smooth skin was broken by the recollections of past fights. Scars over ribs, from the many battles Dean had fought and won. 

Dean felt the rough touch of Castiel's stubble against his own, it sent a shiver down his spine that met those caused by the gentle run of fingertips over his sides. It was a sensory overload, and a shaky moan rattled out of Dean's chest into the small space between he and Castiel.  Castiel offered up his own unintelligible sound, a higher pitch than Dean would have expected, and accompanied it with a push of his hips. 

"Cas..." 

Dean felt like he was on fire. He was suffocating with this man above him, pressing down on him, and it was terrifying and amazing and Dean was willing to die here, on this bed, beneath this angel. 

He wanted to tell Castiel everything. 

Instead, he settled for another "Cas", this one stretched thin as he too began to move his hips. 

In the distance, if he had been listening he would have heard his name called again, but closer, Castiel had breathed it into his ear. 

"Dean..." 

It was amazing. 

" _Dean._ "  

It was something he hadn't allowed himself to hope for. 

"DEAN!" Sammy yelled. Dean sat bolt upright in bed. 

It was all a goddamn dream. 

   
Another goddamn dream. 

" Cas says we have another case." Sam announced before turning on his heel and stalking away.

….......

 

 

Dean walked into the kitchen fifteen minutes later, his hair damp from spalshing his water on his face and running his hands through his hair. He had given himself a stern pep-talk, one that he knew was totally ineffective as soon as he laid eyes on Castiel. The angel was at the table, several papers spread out over the surface before him. Dean felt the weight of that gaze and remembered the feeling that had welled up within him when Castiel had kissed him. He was disappointed that it had all been in his head. A short stab of something painful that must have flashed over his features, because Castiel tilted his head minutely and narrowed his eyes. Dean answered the unspoken question with a slight shake of the head and the matter was dropped.  
  
Unseen, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, Sam rolled his eyes at his brother. He let the two have an unspoken conversation for a few moments before he cleared his throat pointedly.

“Cas thinks we've got a case in Milwaukee.” 

“Whatta we got?” Dean asked as he slid into a chair near Castiel. He was careful to keep his voice even and his chair an appropriate distance from Castiel's. He just hoped his heartbeat would slow down enough for him to pay attention – the sound of his blood pumping in his ears was almost drowning out the information being delivered by that throaty cadence.

….......

 

Dean discovered that the dream about kissing Castiel in his bedroom while a storm raged outside was a recurring one. The details didn't change, he still awoke barechested. Castiel was always standing in his doorway, watching him, waiting for him.  
  
Waiting for him to wake up.  
  
That particular little phrase so eloquently supplied by his subconscious was not lost on Dean.  
  
However, one detail did change. There definitely was someone calling Dean's name. Someone who got closer and closer to the window. Someone who was less and less drowned out by the storm. The last time Dean had the dream, someone had beaten their fists on the window, but by then Cas's tongue was in his mouth, and his hands in his hair and he couldn't bring himself to pull away.  
  
_Next time_ , he promised himself. _Next time, I'll look_.

  
Little did he know that next time would be different. 

  
Almost three months after that first dream, and two vamp nests, a handful of salt and burns and a single, memorable encounter with a Hidebehind, he had the dream again.  
  
He awoke, the storm raging, his breath calm. This time castiel was leaning against the doorjamb, his head tilted, his arms crossed. It didn't feel right. The eyes that danced over his body were almost malicious, sparking in a way that Castiel's never had. His lip curved into a smirk and he advanced on Dean.  
  
“Cas?” He asked.

“Dean.” he was answered, in a tone that almost mocked himself as he sat down on Dean's bed. He surged forward and kissed Dean. It was brutal and savage and _wrong_. Dean pulled away.

“You're not Castiel.” Dean announced.

“Aw. You didn't think I was gonna let my little bro have all the fun did you?” A smirk appeared on Castiel's face that was more at home under a thin, pointed nose and hazel eyes.

“Gabriel?”

“Aw... It looked like you boys were having fun. I had hoped to fool you for a little while longer.”

Castiel was gone, instead Gabriel sat before him, dressed as Dr, Sexy M.D. Right down to the cowboy boots this time.  
  
  
“How about now? If my Cassie impression wasn't good enough for you?”

  
“What are you doing here? I thought you were dead.”

  
“You think you and your bigfoot brother are the only ones who can cheat death? I got news for you buddy – I always have a trick up my sleeve.”

  
“So this is a trick. This whole thing?”

  
“This?” Gabriel asked, sweeping a hand in the air to gesture to the room, “The storm, the bedroom, my brother... the homoeroticism?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Nope. That's all you, bud. Hate to break it to ya.”

  
“Then what is your trick?”

  
“I'm appearing in your dream... It's not easy you know, these little guest roles. You have to find the right dreamer, you have to find a way in and then... then you gotta get their attention.” He raised an eyebrow at Dean, “And when it comes to you, Deano and my little bro, it can be difficult to get a word in edgeways.”

He walked to the window and looked out at the storm.

  
“I thought I'd be bashing on this stupid windowpane forever, while you and Castiel were in here all... comfy and cozy and... well. You know.”

Dean didn't like this. He didn't like Gabriel being in his head. He didn't like Gabriel being in his room and he wished he knew a way to conjure a dream-shirt or something. He didn't want to talk to an undead angel while he was half-naked.

  
“Mary thought the same, thing, you know. The big guy's baby mama. They left it out of the final print, but I spoke to her while she bathed... Great bod, by the way.” Gabriel got a far away look in his eye, Dean rolled his eyes.

  
“The ultimate MILF...”

  
“Could we focus, please?” Dean interjected.

  
“Sorry.”

  
“Why are you hijacking my dreams.”

   
“This is my hour of need and you, Obi Wan, are my only hope.”

Dean just looked at Gabriel, wondering how he could feel so tired when he was asleep, and waited for him to get to the point.

  
“I wanna get back in the game with you kids. Being dead is so boring, and I've been dream-hopping for so long, Dean. I just want to kick some ass. I wanna watch you and Cassie eye-fuck each other like you don't know you're doing it. I want some goddamn candy... but I need you. I need you to get me out of here.”

  
“You need us? You can't just use your angel mojo?”

  
“At this point I have no real place on any plane of existence, and I need you to open a door for me to step through. After you make me some feet, that is.”

   
“What are we looking at here, an incantation, some kinda grace retrieval? Do I have to find you a shiny new meat suit?”

  
“You're going to help me?”

  
“Yeah. I figure it's that or deal with you popping up every damn time I close my eyes.”

  
“Wouldn't want me to interrupt your special time again, would you?”

  
“I feel like we should focus here. I don't want to talk about that. It doesn't mean anything – it's just a dream.”

Gabriel laughed.

  
“What?”

  
“Keep tellin' yourself that Deano. Although, as a man who has been in a lot of dreams, _a lot_ , I gotta say this one... it's a little _vivid_ , don't you think? You can feel the air on your skin, smell the wet soil outside. It's almost like it's been hand crafted. Just for you... That's why I had so much trouble getting in here; it's a secret thing, Dean. If I were you I'd wonder who put this here because it wasn't me, but it was deliberate. Where did this gift come from?”

  
“Now, to business, if you get you confused little gay-for-mybrother ass down into the archives and look for a manuscript called Shimon Ben Laksh Gibral. If you give that to the doe-eyed boy you're dying to bed, he'll tell you what it says. Then you can get me the hell out of here.”

Dean sighed, wondering if it was prudent to let a motor mouth like Gabriel out into the world – especially after he saw what had happened in his head.

  
“I get that, Dean. I really do. You're hoping that when I get out, I won't cramp your style by blurting out how your feverish little mind works... but I could always go visit Samantha. I'm sure his dreams are much less interesting than yours, but the stories we could swap... oh, baby!" His eyes gleamed in mischief. "So, you have to make the decision to either hope that I stay quiet when I become corporeal, or know that I will blab in Sammy's dreams.”

  
“Shimon Ben Laksh Gibral. Got it.” Dean repeated, figuring it was the simplest way to let Gabriel know that he would help him.

  
“Thanks buddy, I knew I could count on you... Now, wake up!”  
  
Gabriel put a hand to Dean's forehead, and he disappeared. He'd woken up, and had left this little pocket of reality. Gabriel watched the space in the empty bed for a second.  
  
  
“Hey, bro. You're a little late. He just left.” Gabriel said over his shoulder.

Castiel appeared in the doorway, his eyes guarded and anxious.

  
“Gabriel. You know I was indisposed. You arranged it. Why didn't you just speak to me?”

  
“Because, Castiel, this way was more _fun_.”

Castiel watched his brother warily.

  
“I am glad that you are finding this so amusing, Gabriel.”

Castiel folded into the chair by the door.

  
“I did not know what else to do. But I had to know. I had to know how he...”

  
“I know, Cassie. I know.”

  
“He said it didn't mean anything...” Castiel stared into the space in front of him, as though he were looking at something far away – something only he could see. Something that turned his eyes a mournful blue.

  
“Dean Winchester says a lot of things.” Gabriel supplied, standing at the window, watching the storm pick up.

Castiel didn't answer. They sat in silence for a long time.

  
“And he's gonna figure it out, he isn't as dumb as he looks.”

He had to check that Castiel was still there, the silence stretched almost impossibly thin - he was, staring at the empty bed.

  
“What are you gonna do when he does?”  
Gabriel let the silence hang in the air, along with all the possibilities and implications.  
Then Castiel was gone, and Gabriel waited.  
  
Waited for them to free him from this limbo.

 


End file.
